For Poems Are Like Rainbows; They Escape

While Over Alabama Earth These Words Are Gently Spoken: Serve And Hate Will Die Unborn. Love And Chains Are Broken.

Don't Come Giving Me, Who's Old Enough To Die And Too Near Blind To Create Anything Any More Anyhow, A Great Big Banquet That You Eat Up In Honor Of Your Own Stomachs As Much As In Honor Of Me- Who's Toothless And Can't Eat.

My Soul Has Grown Deep Like The Rivers.

We Build Our Temples For Tomorrow, Strong As We Know How, And We Stand On Top Of The Mountain, Free Within Ourselves.

Misery Is When You Heard On The Radio That The Neighborhood You Live In Is A Slum But You Always Thought It Was Home.